


you keep me waiting (I don't mind waiting)

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Complicated Relationships, Coulson admitting to himself he's attracted to Daisy, Daisy liking Coulson's beard of sorrow, Daisy ruining xenophobic domestic terrorist lives, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kissing, Light Bondage, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Unintentional Bondage, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Daisy let Coulson out of the handcuffs? No, Daisy will not let him out of the handcuffs. XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	you keep me waiting (I don't mind waiting)

“What did you get yourself into?”

“Is that the key to these?” he asks, looking at the object in her hand, rattling the handcuffs behind his back.

He might’ve been out of them already if they weren’t looped through the back rung of this damn chair.  Pretty heavy, government issue.

At least he knows now that she’s here, he’s not worried about his Watchdog captors roaming the halls anymore.

“I’d say you look rough,” she starts in, “But-“

He narrows his eyes at her a bit, at the fact that she seems positively amused at all of this.  He runs his tongue along the inside of his jaw and winces at tender spot where he took a fist to the face.

“When is the ATCU going to show up?”  She walks in closer to him, and puts her fingers to his chin, and slowly turns it to look at the bruise.

“Does it matter?  You’ll be long gone.”

“We were chasing the same lead, Phil,” she sighs, annoyed at his bitter tone. “We should be working together on this.”

His eyes turn up to meet hers.  Now she’s just rubbing it in.

“We could.  If you’d just come back.”

“Can’t,” she replies immediately, and bends to rest her hands against her knees so their eyes are level.  “Don’t want to risk being put in a box.”

“I’d never let that-“

He stops himself.  He knows just as well as she does he can’t do anything to stop that now.  He shouldn’t make empty promises. 

All he can do is try to keep them off her.

That’s part of the internal war he’s been waging.  Wanting to see her, wanting to understand what she needs, and wanting to keep the ATCU at a safe distance.

“Are you going to unlock me?” he frowns.

She smiles at him, then bites down on her lower lip. “I don’t think I should.  You might try to follow me.”

“Daisy-“

He’s starting to get frustrated when she does the completely unexpected and pushes his shoulders back into the chair, then straddles his lap.

“How long until your team is here?” she wonders, as she slides her hands along his shoulders. “What?  Two minutes, I’m guessing?”

“I dunno,” he manages to mumble.  And breathe.  Just take a breath, Phil.

“Oh, you know,” she nods at him.

“I’m kind of distracted.  At the moment,” he replies as he swallows.  “Is this an interrogation?”

“We _are_ in an interrogation room, “she mentions, glancing around. “Are you stalling? What about all your smooth spy stuff?”

She’s teasing him, and it’s ridiculous, but he’s barely seen her in six months except in surveillance footage and news photos.  He’s certainly never gotten this close.

Not even when they were in SHIELD together.

For a reason.  _Reasons_. And one of them is becoming very painfully obvious at the moment.

“Do you like not being the boss of me?” she asks, tauntingly, as she shifts on his lap to make him more uncomfortable.

“It has perks,” he admits, with a grunt, as his eyes start to rove over her face.  Something about her seems harder, but he imagines being hunted simply because you exist will do that to a person.

He needs to focus.  On her. To pick out any important details, and not think about what this is doing to his-

“You’re so professional,” she tells him, running a hand down the front of his shirt. “I always admired that about you.  To a point.” She pulls at the pocket and then drops the key to the handcuffs inside it.

“C’mon, Daisy-“ he whines, wiggling his arms some more.  His hands are starting to tingle.

She pats at the pocket.  “Being in the field’s been good to you.”

“I’ve been training more,” he admits, holding on to the compliment for a moment. “You have to. And, trying to keep up with you is tough.”

“Mmm.” She purses her lips, letting herself get a good look at his face. “You and a razor aren’t friends these days.”

“Is that a hint?”

“An observation,” she says, mulling some idea over. “I think it looks good on you, though,” she finally says. “Gives you a little bit of edge.”

“I _am_ on edge.”  And trying to stay focused, he thinks to himself. “My fingers are going numb,” he says, testing out a little wiggling and faux indignation. “Do you mind?”

“Don’t think your guys know where you are, Phil,” she tuts as she plays with the top button of his shirt. “What were you thinking, coming here by yourself?”

“I was just here to collect evidence,” he says, tucking his chin down to watch her finger press slide down between his collarbones. “Not get sucker punched and handcuffed to a chair.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, then tosses her head and meet his eyes. “If I agree to let you go, do you promise not to follow me?”

He can’t help but smile a little at the negotiation taking place here.  What does she expect?  He’s been hunting her for months.

There’s a little staring match between them, and he’s starting to feel grateful that he’s tied to this chair.

“Maybe you should leave me cuffed, then.  An anonymous tip to the ATCU?“ he adds with a raise of his eyebrows.

She reaches down between them, into the pocket of his jeans, and feels around for his phone.

“Oh,” he says unintentionally, at the contact, and jumps a little when she slides her hand deeper down into his pocket.

“This is the most action I’ve had in six months, to be honest,” she laughs out next to his ear, huffing until she finally gets his phone out.

She looks through his numbers, while he tries to get himself together, when she finds Mack on the screen. 

“Mack,” she says, sitting back and looking wistfully at his face. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too.”

“I’m just going to send a text,” she says, pressing the buttons. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk just yet.”

“You’re awfully chatty with me.”

“Because we’re not really talking about anything, are we?” she answers, as she sends the message and gives him her full attention again.

“Come home, Daisy.” He has to try.

“It’s not my home.  Are you sure it’s yours? Maybe you should _run_.”

“I wouldn’t be any good to you like that.” As if he hasn’t thought of it a hundred times already, as if her eyes aren’t telling him she knows that, too.

“We could put that to the test.”

She brushes her fingers along the stubble of his jaw, testing, and he forgets about his hands.  The realization dawns on him that he’s genuinely not in control here at all.  He never has been.

All it takes is her moving her hips against his, and he groans audibly as she puts her lips against his ear.

“Your ride’s here,” she whispers.

His eyes open, and he does finally register the sound of an SUV door slam shut from beyond the window.

No. It’s too soon.

He frowns and looks away from the window, back to her face, and sees her expression go from amusement to guilt.  She’s reading him like a book.

“I-“

Impatient and out of time, she cups his face in her hands, then kisses him, hard and fast, pulling back to look at his reaction like she knows she been impulsive.

“Now you look even more of a mess,” she grins, as she swings her leg off of him to stand.

“ _Daisy-“_ he pleads.

“I can’t, Phil,” she says, turning her back to him. “Not yet.”

“I know,” he says in a rush, as he hears the back door kicked in. “I was just going to ask for one more.”

She turns back around with a curious expression, then leans down.

“I better not get caught because of this,” she warns, smiling, and tips back his head to kiss him again, slower this time.

He definitely tries to prolong it as much as possible, pushing himself up towards her as much as he can, savoring the feeling of her tugging on his bottom lip when she pulls away.

“Now I _really_ want to get my hands on you,” he says with a smirk.

“There’s always next time, Phil,” she says, as she works open the window.

“Yeah.  Next time.”  Whenever that’ll be.

Mack comes through the door and sees him tied up in the chair and shakes his head, then walks to the window and looks out of it.

“Couldn’t even talk your way out of the handcuffs?” he asks dryly.

“The key’s in my shirt pocket,” he answers.

Mack sighs and fishes it out then goes behind him to unlock the cuffs.

“Did she seem okay?” he says, a little bit of worry creeping into his tone.

When his wrists are finally loose he groans then rubs at them.  “I think so,” he says, turning back over his shoulder. “She said she misses you.”

“Not as much as she missed you, I think.”

“What?” he asks, then focuses on the one-way glass behind Mack to see a smudge of lipstick on his reflection, as he starts to rub it away.

“My field report will say ‘anonymous tip’,” Mack tells him.  “Couple of these Watchdogs knocked unconscious on the floor might say otherwise.”

“I’ll write it,” he grouses, putting his hands on his hips. “No point in pretending she wasn’t here.”

“I’d leave the lipstick out.”

“Thank you,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll do that."


End file.
